


like embers, we burn

by knightyknight



Category: Naruto
Genre: Founding of Konoha, Gen, Hinted Time Travel, Madara has issues, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Sasuke as Izuna's son, Time Travel, Worldbuilding, takes place just before madada left konoha
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-03
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-07-24 18:52:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16181099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightyknight/pseuds/knightyknight
Summary: Madara suddenly stopped, freezing in place. His eyes went wide, and his skin seemed to lose more color than was healthy in a short amount of time.Sasuke looked back at the Uchiha, still seeming unimpressed, but now a bit wary as the hand on his shoulder tightened and stayed that way. “My name is Uchiha Sasuke,” he said simply. “I was told to come to Konoha because my father would be here. His name is Uchiha Izuna.”Or: Four years after the founding of Konoha and Izuna's death, a boy claiming to be his son appears at the gates.





	1. Chapter 1

Hashirama had been stressed as of late. No, stressed was not the word for it. Worried? Yes, he was worried. Worried that the talks with the clans that wanted to join Konoha would not go well, worried that the plans to implement a new standard for submitted mission reports would be too much hassle, worried about countless other village affairs, as was his duty as its leader. However, above all those, was the worry that Madara was not happy in the village they made.

Well, he did say that this village was not his anymore, but only a failed experiment, so perhaps Hashirama was more worried of the possible actions that could come from such words. Anything from being even more pissy then usual to trying to kill him, or harm those in the village. Hashirama really hoped it would never come to the latter. He knew how unrelenting Madara could be when convinced of his ideology and focused on a goal. Such determination had been the reason this village was created, after all. 

He knew that he should have a talk with him soon, because that conversation they had in the shrine was troubling to say the very least, and a sure cause of his current distress. But, as of right now, with the village at its peak and prospering and growing better than their wildest hopes, he simply could not find the opportunity. No matter how much he did whine and complain about a Hokage’s job, he would never simply abandon his work when the village needed a leader the most. And, he had faith in his friend.

With that thought, he set a paper to the side, starting a pile, and grabbed another from the one already on his desk. He resisted the urge to groan when he saw it was an entire small packet, written on both front and back for at least four pages. Muttering, he picked up his pen and began to look it over, signing when needed. 

Soon after he had gotten through that packet and a dozen more like it, a knock rang through his quiet office. Hashirama eagerly bid them enter, glad for a chance to take a break. His hand was starting to cramp after signing and drafting papers and formal letters since dawn. 

Senju Kenji, a plain-looking young man with brown hair and fair skin, poked his head through the door. Hashirama greeted him with a smile as he came to stand in front of his desk. “What can I do for you, Kenji-san?”

“Someone came up to the gate claiming they had family in Konoha,” he said.The man rubbed the back of his head, looking nervous.

“Truly? That’s wonderful!” He exclaimed in joy. He always loved it when families got reunited and anyone was welcome in Konoha. “As long as it’s confirmed he or she does have family, they can become a citizen of Konoha. Did you need a registration form?” he asked, reaching into one of his drawers. 

“Er, Hokage-sama,” Kenji said slowly. Hashirama asked what the hesitance was for, and he sighed heavily, grimacing as he said, “He claims to be the son of Uchiha Izuna.”

Hashirama blinked as it took a second for him to process what was said. As he did, his chest suddenly felt much heavier than it did a second ago. This...was huge. It was one thing to have family in Konoha, one thing to even be a lost Uchiha who found his way home, but having Izuna as a father was on an entirely different level of scandal and headache. He sighed heavily, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Is there evidence to prove his claim?”

“Well, the kid has the Sharingan.” So a child, and definitely an Uchiha one. “Anything more than that, I was hesitant to handle at the gates.” Understandable, considering the significance of his possible heritage. “How should I proceed, Hokage-sama?”

This was going to be the most delicate matter Hashirama has ever handled since beginning the peace talks with the Uchiha. It needed to be taken care of slowly and calmly, with the utmost care. He would need to call Madara, settle this, and simply hope he won’t have to deal with the entire Uchiha in an uproar later. He had no idea how to test to see if the child was even related to Izuna, however. Perhaps the Uchiha had their own way of doing so.

“Kenji-san, go to the gate and escort the child to my office. Then go and find Madara and tell him it’s urgent that he come here immediately,” he said. As the man disappeared in a burst of shunshin, Hashirama almost felt bad at the strained look that crossed Kenji’s face for a second when he mentioned having to tell Madara, but not for Kenji. 

He was just one of the (apparently) many that could not see Madara for what he was: a kind, passionate man. It just so happened that his main passion was battle. So what if he was little rough around the edges; if they would just take the time and use their eyes, see the little things he does daily and realise how this village would not have been possible without him, they would change their opinion of him. He was sure of it. If only there was a way he could have them see what he saw…

A knock resounded once more, much earlier than Hashirama expected. With his permission, Kenji entered the office once more, but with a new addition at his hip.

It took a second to make sure that this was no genjutsu or henge, and Hashirama couldn’t remember how to breathe for a split second, his heart skipping a beat as he laid his eyes on Izuna. But no, that wasn’t right. Izuna was long dead, couldn’t have been reborn and back to seek revenge or anything of the sort, and Hashirama laughed at himself for jumping to such a conclusion. 

But -- this child was practically a carbon copy of how he remembered Izuna to be over a decade ago, when his sword was still too big for his body and his eyes had not yet bled red. That same face, same skin, same face, same hair, same eyes-

God, there was no denying it now. If this child was not even related to Izuna, Hashirama would eat his hat. 

Kenji bowed and murmured a farewell to them as he disappeared once more. Gathering himself together, Hashirama sent his best welcoming smile with a touch of fatherliness at the child, who stood with his arms crossed and a slight frown. “Hello there, young one,” he greeted. “Have a seat. How are you?”

“Fine.” The boy’s tone was clipped, and he looked perpetually unimpressed as he sat just feet away from the leader of Konoha. Hashirama recalled seeing the same expression on Madara’s face years ago when he would try and come up with a cool jutsu name. But he didn’t let that stop him. 

“How was your trip here? Are you hungry, thirsty? I can have some refreshments brought to us if needed. You must have traveled quite far to get here, yes?” 

“I’m not hungry,” the boy said simply. 

“Very well then.” Hashirama could see that he was a boy of few words, but had experience working with those types of people. His best friend was one of them, after all. “Do you know why you’re here?”

The child shifted just slightly. “You need to confirm that I am who I say I am, and not just faking it.”

Hashirama nodded. “That’s correct.” A pause. “My apologies, I never got your name…?”

“My name is Uchiha Sasuke,” he said, something in his voice Hashirama couldn’t recognize. 

“As in the Sarutobi Clan head?” he asked, to which he received a short nod. Sasuke’s expression shifted from unimpressed to slightly annoyed, causing Hashirama to chuckle. “You must get that a lot, I take it?”

“Hn. My mother said it was a strong name.”

“Your mother was right,” Hashirama agreed. He kept a note to find out more about the boy’s mother later. “Sarutobi-san is a strong man indeed, and I’m sure you will be too.”

Sasuke shrugged. He didn’t say anything more, and Hashirama was content to let a few seconds of silence pass so he could study the boy. 

The boy was dressed in a plain dark shirt and dark pants, and his shoes were simple, dusty sandals that barely touched the floor. Sasuke obviously wasn’t from a well-off family if he was wearing those cheap peasant clothes, or perhaps he had put them on to not stand out on the journey to Konoha. He had dirt smudges on his face and a few cuts that were probably caused by running through branches. He carried a small pack on his back, which he hadn’t taken off even to sit down. 

Sasuke overall looked worse for wear, but didn’t seem bothered by his worn state. He simply kept his arms crossed, eyes to the side, not even looking at him. Normally, that would have been taken a sign of disrespect, but Hashirama was willing to ignore it. The boy had had a rough trip, he could plainly see that. He would not want to hassle the child anymore than he was.

Another knock, and Madara didn’t even ask for permission before letting himself in. He strode in with a dark air about him, annoyed and bored with an underline of fury that never seemed to leave him. Madara glanced at the boy on the chair and quickly dismissed him, stalking until he was just behind the chair. Hashirama was grateful that Sasuke didn’t turn around so Madara could see his face. 

“What’s so urgent that you had to call me out of my own house, Hashirama,” he said, crossing his arms. Hashirama felt a bit of amusement at how similar the two Uchihas were when in the same position. 

“Madara, my friend, something has come up,” he began. “This young boy here arrived at the gates not too long ago and said he had family in Konoha.” He gave Madara a look that said ‘hear me out first’ and continued, “He was proven to be an Uchiha, for he has the Sharingan.”

Madara raised a brow. “Odd, that an Uchiha would be outside of the Clan. And potentially dangerous.” He turned to Sasuke, grabbing his shoulder to turn the boy towards him. “You, boy, who are your-” Madara suddenly stopped, freezing in place. His eyes went wide, and his skin seemed to lose more color than was healthy in a short amount of time. 

Sasuke looked back at the Uchiha, still seeming unimpressed, but now a bit wary as the hand on his shoulder tightened and stayed that way. “My name is Uchiha Sasuke,” he said simply. “I was told to come to Konoha because my father would be here. His name is Uchiha Izuna.”

The second that passed in stunned silence was like waiting for a volcano to erupt, and erupt it did.

Madara released the boy as if he burned him. His teeth grit together, his fists clenched, and he turned to Hashirama with such a vicious expression the Senju was taken back at the ferocity of it. “What kind of trick are you trying to pull,” he hissed. “What sort of twisted illusion is this?” he pounded his fists on the desk, causing it to crack and splinter as his eyes swirled red. Sasuke jumped slightly. Madara’s eyes held the fury of a raging fire, and Hashirama met them composedly. 

“This is no trick, illusion, or game, or anything of the sort, my friend, I promise you,” Hashirama said as calm as he could. It was clear that Madara had had no prior knowledge of even Sasuke’s existence, and he wanted answers now. “You can see for yourself that this is no henge or genjutsu. Please, Madara, calm yourself.”

“Explain,” the Uchiha ground out.

“I don’t think I can,” Hashirama admitted. “I only just met young Sasuke as well. I think it’s best if he were to shine some light on things, yes?”

Sasuke flinched at being on the receiving end of a pair of angry Sharingan, but only just. He remained largely unaffected, which Hashirama internally congratulated him on. Even the mention of those eyes had sent entire armies running. Letting out a huff, the boy spoke, “I came here seeking refuge. There was an incident in my old village, and I awakened my Sharingan.” He paused, something flashing in his eyes that was both grief and anger. 

His eyes swirled, forming three tomoe before fading in the next instant. Hashirama felt both surprise and pity that a fully matured Sharingan was in someone so young, but didn’t let any outward reaction show. 

“Once others had seen it, word began to spread of a lone Uchiha child, and I was hunted down. Just before my mother died, she told me I would be safe in Konoha, because it was where my father would be.” Sasuke had little inflection in his voice when telling his, admittedly very short, tale. Although that was to be expected; no one would want to talk about the death of a loved one and being constantly on the run alone. 

“Who was your mother?” Madara asked, almost sounding hurt. Hashirama would be too, if he found out his brother had had a woman in his life so important that he had a child with but didn’t care to even mention. 

“Her name was Mikoto.” Sasuke blinked a few times in rapid succession, getting rid of the shine they had developed. “She used to be a shinobi. I don’t know her old family, though. We traveled a lot, and she worked wherever she could.” He shifted. “I think she was a prostitute for a little bit, and that’s how she met Father.”

Hashirama clasped his hands together and brought them up to rest his head on. He smiled, saying, “Your mother sounds like a wonderful woman, regardless.” He thought of how stressful it must have been, knowing you were giving birth to the child of the infamous Uchiha Izuna, that if anyone were to find out of his heritage you would be killed and your child stolen for his eyes. That fact that she was a former shinobi was most likely the reason she had managed to dodge any dangerous situations, until recently. “Did you ever meet your father?” 

Sasuke shook his head. “Mother thought that if he ever found out, he would kill me.”

“That’s awful,” Hashirama sympathized. “But if that was so, why did she send you here to Konoha?”

“It was the only place I could go with the lowest risk of my eyes being ripped out,” he said simply, as if talking about the weather. “At least in Konoha my death was only a possibility and not a sure thing.”

“Your life will not be in danger, you have my word,” he said quickly. Hashirama hated that the child thought that way, but he could understand. The Uchiha were not known to be a particularly compassionate clan, and he could only imagine what the poor child had been feeling, knowing he might be walking to his death. The fact that he did so showed much courage, however. The kid was brave. Hashirama glanced at Madara, who had not said anything. 

Seeing his look, the Uchiha let out a breath, shoulders falling. “I would never hurt a child, much less an Uchiha. You have my word as well.” His eyes returned to their natural black color.

“Hn.” Madara’s eyes went distant for a second, seeing memories of a man long since gone. The pain of losing a younger brother, of failing him, was a heavy one, ever-present and jabbing with sharpened claws that raked, leaving only empty grief. 

Sasuke studied Madara intently in the next moments, eyes roaming from head to toe and back again, searching his face, looking him in the eye. “Are you my father?” 

Hashirama resisted the urge to wince. Even mentioning Izuna was hard for Madara, being in the same room with Sasuke must have been difficult beyond what Hashirama completely understood. Yes, his brothers have died, but he had never been faced with a living piece of them before. 

But young Sasuke didn’t know this. He was simply a boy looking for his lost father. Madara flinched back as if struck. His face turned down in a grimace, his hand coming up to rub his face and he took a breath. 

“No,” the Uchiha said, almost a whisper. “I’m your uncle. Your father was my younger brother, Izuna.”

“Was?” he asked. Hashirama hated how that was the only thing Sasuke took from the response. 

Madara let out another breath, fists clenching and unclenching in rhythm. “Izuna-your father is dead. Killed, as of four years ago.” His expression closed off, showing nothing of the fury Hashirama knew was lying underneath. Fury that was directed at his younger brother. Hashirama allowed himself to just touch at his chakra, just in case. 

“Oh.” Sasuke didn’t look sad, per se, just...disappointed, almost. Like he was expecting to either die or meet his only remaining family but got neither. “What will happen with me, then?”

“I believe we can work out something to your satisfaction-“

“He will stay with me,” Madara said quickly, leaving no room for argument. Hashirama raised a brow, not expecting his friend to agree so readily. Madara was not a child person, usually too stern and harsh to make a good impression on them, and having Sasuke with him would only reawaken his grief. 

However, as Hashirama thought about it, having a child around could be good for him. With his recent attitude towards the village, perhaps having something to care for, something to ground him, would be beneficial. 

“Are you sure?” Sasuke asked. “I don’t want to be a burden.”

“Nonsense,” Madara dismissed. He looked more calm and composed than he probably was. “You are my nephew, and now the sole member of the Main Family besides myself. Having you anywhere else is unacceptable.” He looked at the pack on the boy’s back and his less than perfect appearance, lip curling. “Is that all you have?”

“Yes.” Sasuke’s ears went a bit red at the attention. 

“Come with me. We will get you proper clothing and the necessary supplies you will need while living with me.” He got Sasuke standing and turned to leave, but stopped to address Hashirama, “Unless there is anything else?”

Hashirama knew that even if he said yes, there were other matters that needed to be taken care of, Madara would leave anyway, so he simply smiled and bid them a good day. 

They left, leaving Hashirama with his paperwork and thoughts of how Tobirama would take this.


	2. Settling In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara gets to know his nephew a little bit in the form of various shopping trips.

If Madara had to describe Sasuke in one word, it was quiet.

 

Throughout their entire little shopping trip, the amount of full sentences the boy had spoken could be counted on a single hand. It got to the point where Madara stopped asking which shirt he would like and simply began to make decisions for the boy. The only indication Sasuke had made of what he wanted for his new wardrobe was glancing longer than usual at some plain dark blue shirts and grey shorts. Which was odd, or, at least, he thought it was. He didn’t have much experience with small children, but weren’t they supposed to jump at any chance to get something new? Especially given that what the boy was currently wearing was just a step above rags.

 

Madara’s reluctance to start any lasting conversation didn’t help to alleviate the silence that hung between them. Not that he wouldn’t want to get to know his last family, he just...didn’t know what to do.

 

He had been alone for years, now. When Izuna died, so had the last bit of his hope for happiness. Being confronted with a piece of his lost brother had him struggling for something to ground himself on, so that maybe, maybe, he can wake up from this nightmare. He had failed Izuna once. The threat of failing his own remaining family, failing Izuna’s child, would have been too much if he was any less of a shinobi. It was in situations like these where learning to control your emotions so that you could handle everything later came very much in handy.

 

They were in a small clothing shop on the edges off the still-new main market. He had found it on their way from the Hokage’s office and decided it was suitable for today. Night was coming fast, and he felt they should get home in time for dinner before it gets completely dark out . Who knows how long it had been since the boy had a proper meal.

 

Madara picked out several pairs of dark shirts and shorts, with a simple blue yukata that Sasuke didn’t seem to appreciate but relented when he was given a look that said ‘deal with it’, and then made his way to the counter with a scowling Sasuke at his hip. The civilian woman at the front desk didn’t meet his eyes and made the transaction as quickly as possible, unsurprisingly. Madara knew he had a certain reputation within the village, and that he was not well-liked among the populous, shinobi or not. He didn’t like to dwell on that, however, so he curtly thanked the woman for her business and left the establishment with bag in hand. He could get them embroidered with the clan insingnia later.

 

It didn’t take long to get back to the Uchiha compound. They got quite the amount of curious stares and murmurs on their way there. He’s sure they made quite the pair, the Uchiha leader and a dirty brat. Annoyed at the attention but not being able to do anything about it because the kid was in no state to be travelling the shinobi way, if he even could, Madara resorted to glaring at any gaze he managed to catch.

 

The attention only got worse when they entered the compound, and he was certain it was because of Sasuke’s appearance. Most of the Uchiha remembered Izuna, and it was impossible to not notice the resemblance. In a few days, he would start to expect a few to be brave enough to come demand answers of him. Madara scowled. He hesitated for a second, wondering if he should grab Sasuke’s hand like he has seen many parents do with their kids and drag him along so they could get home faster and away from these traitors. Eventually, he decided against it and let himself be merciful enough to let the boy walk at his own pace. It was just his luck that the main house was deep into the compound.

 

It took far too long to reach the house, in his opinion. Once they entered, Madara showed Sasuke to the room across and a bit down the hall from his own and told him to get settled while he made dinner. He ignored the fact that the room was empty except for a small dresser on the far wall. He should make time to get a futon in the near future for the boy. Perhaps a small table as well. Anything else the boy could get on his own another time.

 

Madara found that the only edible food he had in his pantry was some rice and a bit of fish, barely enough for an adult and a child. As he started the water in a pot, he wondered why it looked like his house was already abandoned. Oh, right. Because he had planned to leave soon.

 

_ Best not to dwell on that now _ , he thought, and used a kunai to cut the fish because he couldn’t be bothered to look for kitchen knives. With this new development, he couldn’t leave; for the near future, at least.

 

It didn’t take long for Sasuke to get finished settling in, and Madara soon had an audience that observed him from the low table in the center of the room. He paid those beady eyes no mind and continued to cook. Only once he had set the food on the plates and sat did he meet them.

 

“I hope you like fish,” Madara told him as stuck his chopsticks into the fish.

 

“Hn.” Sasuke began to eat as well, faster than was normal but still controlled enough so that he didn’t look like a savage. Must have been a while since he last ate.

 

Something occurred to him. “Do you have any food allergies?” He hoped not, because he could only cook so many dishes and had no idea what to do if the boy was allergic to something common.

 

“No.” Sasuke shook his head.

 

“Any particular food you like?”

 

The bowl of rice clinked against the wood of the table as Sasuke set it down. He took a moment to pause. “I like tomatoes,” he said, voice low, like he was reluctant, or embarrassed, to say it.

 

“Me too.” A few seconds passed before Madara spoke again. He set down his chopsticks and rested his head on clasped hands. “Tell me about yourself. I would like to get to know my nephew over dinner.”

 

“Hn.” Madara resisted the urge to let his eyebrow twitch at the answer, which seemed to be one of the few words the boy actually knew. He had never been known for his patience, quite the opposite, in fact, and these constant monosyllabic responses were grating on his nerves. Did the boy not see that he was trying to make an effort here?

 

“My name…is Uchiha Sasuke,” he said simply. Madara was about to snap at him that they had already been over this before, but he continued, “I like tomatoes, training, and my friends. I dislike anything sweet, idiots, and those who try to achieve peace through war.” Madara’s finger twitched. “My hobbies are training and taking walks. My dream,” he paused, then corrected himself, “my  _ goal _ , is to destroy a certain someone.”

 

Madara gazed contemplatively at the darkness that had flashed across the young Uchiha’s features for that split second. A bit dark for a child, but not uncommon to those living in this time period. Madara assumes he meant to destroy whoever killed his mother, and he could relate to having such a goal. He could relate to achieving it as well.

 

“Your turn.”

 

Madara blinked slowly, setting Sasuke with a blank look. The boy merely sent one in return. The battle of wills lasted for a few seconds before Madara huffed amusedly and relented, “Very well.” He was not comfortable sharing any sort of personal information with anyone, but who said he had to be specific?

 

“My name is Uchiha Madara, Head of the Uchiha Clan,” he began. “I like some things and dislike most others. My hobbies are irrelevant, and my goals are unimportant at this time.” He reveled in the way Sasuke’s eye twitched, lips going down in an annoyed frown. Another short staring contest ensued, but this time, it was Sasuke who gave in, stabbing his fish and angrily shoving it in his mouth. Madara let a small smirk appear and resumed his dinner.

 

The rest of their meal was spent in silence, but it was not as heavy as before. Madara felt he did a good job of ‘breaking the ice,’ as they say, and allowed Sasuke to go wash up while he cleaned the dishes. It hasn’t registered that the boy was tracking dirt into his house. He’ll have him clean it tomorrow.

 

Soon after he finished, it was late enough that Madara deemed it bedtime time for the child. He gave Sasuke his own futon and pillow, more out of common courtesy than actually wanting to, since he had no extra, and desperately tried to shove down the memories of sharing a bed with Izuna when they were young and huddling in a temporary shelter.

 

The room, Sasuke’s new bedroom, was dark except for the moonlight that filtered through the thin walls. Out of what he thought was nostalgia, he even went to set the futon correctly on the dusty tatami mats. Sasuke slipped in between the covers and gave him a questioning look. “Are you going to tuck me in?” He didn’t sound very expectant or hopeful, and Madara wasn’t about to coddle.

 

“No,” he said, turning to leave. “Goodnight.”

 

“Hn.”

 

Madara closed the sliding door behind him and let out a shaky breath. It was like his eyes wouldn’t let him see Sasuke as anything other than a younger Izuna, his vision constantly overlapping the present with ghosts of the past.

 

He walked until he entered his study, a small room lined with full, old shelves and a desk and chair in the center, the entirety dimly illuminated by a small cluster of candles in the corner. Madara fell into the chair and rubbed his face tiredly. He didn’t know what he got himself in to. He had no idea how to raise a child, or care for one properly. He didn’t know why he had demanded the child stay with him in the first place, it would probably be for the better if Sasuke wasn’t living with him.

 

Maybe he was selfish and craved the chance to have Izuna with him again, even if it wasn’t really Izuna. Craved it like a fish craves water. But that would only end badly, he knew that. Though he may be his child, Sasuke was not Izuna, had never even met the man before. He had come to Konoha looking for refuge and family, and he got a grieving uncle in an empty house.

 

Maybe...his plans could be put on hold, for now. He would try and care for the child, try and make it so he was happy and loved here in Konoha, because Izuna was dead and it was the least he could do for his brother. Maybe even love him, like he had loved Izuna, but that would take time. Yes, he had plans, but nothing took precedence over Izuna, and Sasuke was all he had left of him.

 

Madara could wait, at least for now. Sasuke was his new priority, and he would be damned if he was going to fail Izuna again.

 

—-

 

First thing in the morning, Madara went to an Uchiha sewing shop within the compound to have Sasuke’s shirts embroidered with the Uchiha fan. An old lady owned the shop, a woman named Naori who was one of the few people Madara had ever seen that was over the age of seventy. A kind, but curt and no-nonsense type of woman. She was a former shinobi, he recalled as he noted one of her eyes was closed. He wondered what had happened, but dared not ask.

 

“A simple fan on all of them,” Naori murmured to herself, sorting through the small pile shirts and single yukata. “Front or back?”

 

“Back,” Madara said and reached into his pocket. “How much and when will they be ready?”

 

“300 ryō will be all. You can pay the total amount now or only half, and pay the rest when you pick it up in four day’s time.” The old woman took the stack of clothing and set it off to the side to accept a small wad of bills. She gave Madara a small smile. “If that is all, I bid you a good day, Madara-sama.”

 

“And to you, Naori-san.” Madara promptly left, and it took only a few seconds to appear back in his house using shunshin. The sun had just fully come over the horizon, so the house wasn’t dark, but it was still just as quiet as it had been in the dead of night. Madara would have thought it devoid of life had he not sensed the small, flickering chakra signature of his new charge.

 

He walked silently, his footsteps not making a single sound. Just as quietly, he slid open the door to Sasuke’s room just an inch, but if he were asked why he had come to observe the boy, he wouldn’t know. Maybe he was feeling a bit protective, or maybe he was just checking to make sure that yesterday wasn’t just a bad dream.

 

Sasuke was sitting up, his lower half still under the sheets, and he stared blankly, or was it boredly, at the wall. “You’re awake,” Madara greeted. Sasuke’s eyes flickered to Madara for a second as he slid the door open all the way. “I took your shirts in, but you should have a few left to change in to. Get dressed, we’re going to the market.”

 

Not expecting a verbal response, Madara went to the front door to wait for him. Not even a minute later, Sasuke came, wearing a dark blue shirt with a high collar, white shorts, and his old sandals. He made a mental note to buy the boy a new pair. Madara hummed. “Come.”

 

Though it was still somewhat early, people had already began to go about their day. The market wasn’t that big yet, but it was still the largest area in the village aside from clan compounds, and it would only flourish as time went on. Madara led Sasuke to the food and produce stalls, once again in near complete silence. He may have been annoyed at the lack of conversation or acknowledgement, but they were both still adjusting to each other, so he supposed he could let it slide for the next few days.

 

Despite the noticeable amount of attention they still got, this shopping trip went relatively well. Spices, fruit, vegetables, bread, and meat were all bought with what they could be used to make in mind. Sasuke was definitely more vocal about his wants and such, and Madara ended up with half of their grocery bag being tomatoes, big, red, and juicy. He gave the boy a weird look when he took one and began to eat it like an apple and received a ‘what are you looking at’ kind of glare. The kid’s glare was even somewhat impressive for his age, so Madara let him continue as they made their way through the stalls.

 

Once the food shopping was done, Madara turned to Sasuke. “Do you have any shinobi training?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Good, good,” Madara appraised. Given how his mother was a shinobi herself, he wasn’t that surprised. Any child in this time should learn how to defend themselves. “What can you do?”

 

The boy hummed, seemingly reluctant to answer. It shows how he was distrustful of others, or at least cautious. Madara approved of both. “I am proficient in taijutsu, bukijutsu, and genjutsu. I am also able to mold chakra efficiently enough for several jutsu.”

 

“Your primary chakra nature?”

 

“Lighting, followed by fire.” While most Uchiha had fire as their main chakra nature, it was not that uncommon to see me that didn’t. Madara himself was primarily wind natured. 

 

“And you said you're proficient?” Madara asked slyly, searching the boy with his eyes. Sasuke didn’t seem like the type to exaggerate much or be cocky in his own abilities, but Madara knew that children were likely to toot their own horn, even when they didn’t mean to. He remembered being that age and thinking he could do anything. “Show me.”

 

“Not now,” Sasuke said. Madara nearly laughed out loud at the audacity of that single statement. Others would never even think of denying him, and yet an eight-year-old brat had done just that. Madara most have been presumptuous when he assumed his reputation was known worldwide, because this child obviously didn’t know what he was capapble of.

 

“Oh?” Madara raised a challenging brow. “And why not?”

 

“We’re in public.” Sasuke’s eyes flickered around to the growing number of people around them, most sending curious or wary glances their way while others murmured amongst themselves. He frowned. “I’d rather not show an entire village of people exactly what I can do.”

 

“I thought you would be more concerned about the possible casualties of practicing jutsu in a populated area,” Madara told him, lightly.

 

“Hn.”

 

Madara smirked to himself at the answer. He had just gained more insight into what Sasuke was actually like, and it seemed the boy was cold and a bit cruel, just like himself. If he continued getting positive results like this, he could see them getting along very nicely in the future.

 

“We’re going to get you some weapons, then,” Madara said as they turned to head down another, smaller side road. “We’ll have to go back to the compound, however. I am most familiar with the Uchiha weapons shop.” Sasuke nodded, a small flicker of excitement and relief in his eyes. Madara wondered what he was thinking.

 

“Can they make custom orders?” Sasuke asked suddenly.

 

“Do you have something in mind?” Madara was honestly curious.

 

Sasuke hummed. “A sword. I was proficient in kenjutsu and wielded my own blade.”

 

“Interesting,” Madara said lightly, and it was, indeed. Having your own weapon was a sign of mastery or near-mastery over a certain art, and Madara wondered how early he must have begun training to already be skilled enough. “You’re looking for a replacement.”

 

“Hn. As long as it fits my specifications.”

 

“A replica, then,” Madara intoned. “You must have been very fond of that sword. I wonder who gave it to you.”

 

“I had a good teacher,” Sasuke said, a bit of bite in his voice. Madara noticed how that answered neither of his remarks, but didn’t comment on it. He could afford to let the boy have his own bit of secrecy, for now.

 

“In that case,” they turned down another street, heading back towards the more populated areas, “I have heard of a blacksmith from Iron that opened shop in Konoha a few months ago. He specializes in custom weapons, and, given his reputation, may be the best option for you.”

 

“It won’t be cheap,” Sasuke told him, giving him a sideways look. “And you don’t even know if I’m as good as I say I am. What if I just think I’m able to excel in kenjutsu and it ends up being a waste of your money and the blacksmith’s time?”

 

“That fact that you pointed that out to me says otherwise,” Madara chuckled. “And if you do end up wasting my money, I’ll simply get you to pay me back in one way or another.”

 

“Fair enough.” Sasuke seemed vaguely amused at his answer, a small smirk visible on his face. Madara was glad he was finally starting to talk. It gave him a chance to get to know his nephew and figure out how he worked. So far, he had deduced that he was obviously more skilled than was average for his age, insightful, and secretive, all of which reminded him of how Izuna used to be.

 

And if Sasuke was anything like his father, he definitely wasn’t a normal child, that was for sure.

 

A minute of walking and they arrived at  _ The Iron Maiden _ , stuck in between a bakery and a  general weapons shop. A small bell chimed when they opened the door. The shop was a bit smaller on the inside than it looked on the outside. It was a sturdy building, a bit dim due to lack of windows, and filled to the brim with weaponry of all shapes and sizes, even some that Madara himself didn’t recognize immediately, though he could tell they were of high quality. The man that owned this was definitely skilled at what he did.

 

It didn’t take long for said owner to show his face, appearing from some back room  behind the front desk with soot covered clothes and a pair of dark goggles on his head. He was a middle aged man, probably in his early forties, with light brown hair and somewhat tanned skin. He was several inches taller than Madara himself but had a thin frame. He smiled warmly at them even though his teeth were yellow. “Good morning, gentlemen,” he greeted cheerily, surprising Madara with hospitality that he didn’t usually receive . “What can I do for you today?”

 

A bit taken aback by the friendliness, Madara simply nodded in greeting. “My nephew would like to make an order for a custom sword.” He laid his hand on Sasuke’s shoulder and brought him forward.

 

“Hello, young man. And what’s your name?” The man asked, just shy of cooing.

 

Sasuke’s finger twitched just slightly. He obviously wasn’t fond of being treated like a child. “Uchiha Sasuke,” he ground out.

 

The man blinked, surprised. “Really? An Uchiha coming in to my shop? Well, I’d be honored to provide my services.”

 

Madara couldn’t help the wad of feelings in his chest at the man’s words. He wasn’t used to being treated nicely, or even being welcomed, without that hint of hostility or wariness they had. Fear of him, fear of Uchiha. Perhaps it was sad, but it was simply the way it was. It was one of the reasons he had tried to get the Clan to listen to him when he foresaw how they would be treated in the future based on their treatment now (they didn’t listen). But, with this...he didn’t know what to think. The man could simply be trying to kiss up to them.

 

“Thank you.” Sasuke inclined his head. “Do you have carbon steel?”

 

The owner thought for a moment. “Not readily, but if I were to place an order, I could get some. It would take a little longer than usual for your order to be ready, though, and would cost extra.”

 

Sasuke glanced back at Madara, who nodded. “That’s fine,” the boy said. “I would like to place an order for a custom chokutō. The blade should be 30 inches, and the handle 7 inches.”

 

“You sure?” The man asked, a bit hesitant. “I’m not sure if that’s a good size your for your, well...size.”

 

“I’ll grow in to it,” Sasuke replied smoothly. Seeing his certainty, the owner shrugged, and grabbed a notepad and pen and began to write down the specifics Sasuke listed. The length, thickness, weight, color, and sharpness, among other things. If the boy didn’t know how to wield one, he at least knew how they were supposed to work. He even drew a rough design of what it was supposed to look like, complete with angles, scales, and specific measurements. Madara was mildly impressed.

 

In the end, the exchange ended with Madara’s wallet significantly lighter and the owner’s promise that his sword should be fully complete in about two month’s time. He was a very friendly fellow, that much he could say for sure. And hardworking, too, given his current state of dress. As they bid their goodbyes, the man suddenly floundered for a moment, bowing low and laughing embarrassedly. “Oh, where are my manners? Forgive me, I haven’t introduced myself this whole time!”

 

He rubbed the back of his head. “I am Ishida Mitsunari, the owner of this shop. To whom do I have the pleasure of serving today?” Sasuke had already been introduced, so it was obvious who he was directing the question to.

 

“Uchiha Madara. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Ishida-san.” Madara inclined his head just enough to be polite. The owner didn’t seem that fazed by this at all, simply continued to smile and returned the gesture.

 

“And to you, Uchiha-sama. Have a wonderful rest of your day.”

 

Did he not know who he was?

 

Once again, Madara was stumped at the pleasant treatment he was receiving. It was odd, almost foreign to him, but...surprisingly, Madara could not bring himself to see it as unwelcome. Like a nice change in scenery.

 

“Where to now?” Sasuke asked as they walked.

 

“Back to the compound,” Madara replied, sending a bit of killing intent at a group of shinobi who were whispering and pointed at them. “We don’t want the food to spoil.”

 

“And then lunch?”

 

“Sure.” Madara had been feeling hungry himself. They had been out for the entire morning, with no breakfast and constantly on the move. He hoped they would get through this settling in stage soon, because he was already growing annoyed of the continuous walking from one part of the village to the other and back.

 

They arrived to the house in silence that was beginning to border on compatible. Sasuke helped to put the groceries away while Madara started cooking, something he was sure he would not get used to. The culinary arts had never been his forte, but he was good enough to sustain himself for all these years, all he would have to do was cook extra for a second stomach. Simple, yes?

 

Apparently not.

 

“You’re not putting enough tomato,” Sasuke said from the side, looking into the pan on the stove disapprovingly.

 

“If I put anymore, it would be more tomato than sauce,” Madara retorted. He stirred the ground meat around with a wooden spoon. The rice had finished a short while ago, but the tomato and beef topping was still in the process of being made. He swatted Sasuke’s hand away when he reached over to drop more of those damned fruits into the pan. “Stop that.”

 

“You need to put more tomato,” Sasuke repeated, more insistently this time. “It’s better like that.”

 

“I beg to differ,” Madara scoffed. “You’re misguided in your culinary tastes.”

 

“Hn.”

 

Sasuke gave him a sideways look, and there was a glint in his eye that Madara didn’t like. The boy reached over to the carton of eggs that was just a few feet away, and began to slowly push it off the table. Madara gave him a fierce look of warning, and Sasuke kept eye contact as he slid the carton further and further off the table. 

 

“Sasuke-” Quickly, Madara stepped forward to catch the eggs from falling (that would be a waste of money and eggs), setting them back onto the counter, and turning with a snarl to see Sasuke had already added some more tomatoes to the pan, stirring it. The kid was fast, Madara could see that. And cleverly mischievous, it seemed.

 

Madara snatched the spoon away from him, giving him a nice shove so he could regain control of the pan’s contents. He ignored the smug feeling radiating off of the boy and angrily stirred. “Try anything like that again and you’ll regret it, boy,” Madara said harshly, giving the boy an annoyed glare. It took a good amount of restraint to keep himself from striking the child.

 

After lunch, Sasuke was put to work cleaning the dishes and whatever dirt he tracked in yesterday. Madara went into his study and was finally able to catch up on some paperwork in the meantime, glad for the time alone, even though he spent it composing missives and signing document after document.

 

It wasn’t half an hour later that Sasuke came to him asking if he could go play out in the back, the first truly child-like thing he had done. Given that the boy even thought to ask him first, Madara rewarded him with a positive answer and went back to work. He kept a close eye on Sasuke’s chakra to make sure he didn’t run off. 

 

When the sun had started to set, he had thought it was time enough for play time, or whatever the boy had been doing for the past few hours, to end. Setting down a thick folder, he made his way out to the backyard, a large enough lawn with a small pond and edged by lush bushes and small trees. What met him wasn’t destruction like he had half-expected, but Sasuke throwing kunai and shuriken at several makeshift targets with skill you would never have expected on anyone less than a chunin brought just as much surprise.

 

The boy turned to him, breathing a bit labored. He had his arms crossed and spiky hair in more disarray than usual. Madara gazed back just as easily, only taking a second to survey how even multiple kunai were hitting the center of the targets with perfect accuracy, then he huffed. 

 

“Already a shinobi, huh,” he mused aloud. The feeling in his chest was big and spreading, and Madara called it pride, pride in his nephew already being so skilled. “Come inside and clean up, you’re filthy. Dinner will start soon.” 

 

He supposed the boy could start his shinobi career a bit earlier than expected. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HUGEEE thank you to all who commented, liked, subscribed, etc to this story!!! It was your support that got me motivated enough to keep going with this, and I'm ecstatic that it got such a positive response! You all are amazing! (still not sure on comment etiquette, though..do I reply to all of y'all or...?)
> 
> I'm not sure if all of the chapters will be this long (about 5000 words), but I will strive to make them at least 3000+ from now on. Also, updates should be quite random, but not too long apart, if only because I write sporadically when I can. I still don't know how this story if going to be, so this was just a bit of insight on Madara and worldbuilding. A bit, boring, I know, but I promise it'll get better!
> 
> PLEASE, If you have any ideas on how this story could go or what could be included in it, or just thoughts on how it is so far, let me know!! I have the vaguest of ideas for a few future events, such as Tobirama meeting Sasuke, but that's it for now, so pleaseee comment!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sasuke's going to the Academy, no ifs ands or buts about it.

“No.”

Madara set down his cup of warm morning tea. “What was that?”

“I’m not going to the Academy,” Sasuke elaborated, the look in his eyes showing that there was no way he was going to back down on this anytime soon. Madara let out a breath through his nose, frowning.

“Be that as it may, you will not speak to me with such disrespect,” he said curtly. “Fix your attitude and I may just be inclined to hear what you have to say.”

Waves of frustration emanated from the boy sitting across the table from him. Madara waited patiently as the boy tried to curb his anger and failed, taking a small sip of his tea. While Sasuke may be his nephew and still adjusting, even after a week, there was never an excuse to not show respect and courtesy to your elders. It took a few moments of stewing in annoyance before the boy let out a long, slow breath and said through gritted teeth, “My apologies, but I really don’t want to go to the Academy.”

That was good enough, he supposed. At least Sasuke had actually apologized this time. “And why not?”

“It’s useless to me,” the boy said, firmly. “I highly doubt I would learn anything by being there. It would be a waste of time.”

“And what would you expect to do with yourself, then? I can’t stay with you all the time, and you want to be a shinobi, correct?”

“Yes.”

“The only way to become a shinobi is to pass through the Academy,” Madara said pointedly.

“You didn’t have to,” Sasuke retorted childishly.

Madara chortled. “There are laws, now, and there’s no getting around them. You either attend and become a shinobi, or you’re nothing at all.” He gave Sasuke a piercing look. “Is that clear?”

The boy met his gaze with an equally fierce one of his own, but eventually broke the silent brawl with a scowl and went back to eating his breakfast. Madara hummed and did the same, and the rest of the early morning was a mildly hostile affair. A bit disappointing, given the progress they had made thus far. However, despite obviously having been trained as a shinobi, Madara would not stand for his nephew to be a mere civilian all because he didn’t want to go to school. Making connections with the other clan children could also be beneficial.

A week of knowing each other and learning to tolerate each other had already passed. A week of nearly unbearable, tedious shopping trips to acquire the necessities of having a child live under his roof and long stretches of silence interrupted by small bouts of almost pleasant conversation. Madara was glad it was over, but once it had ended, new problems and headaches had arisen. One such being the topic of shinobi education.

Obviously, Madara would not neglect teaching Sasuke traditional Uchiha techniques, but law dictated that he must be schooled on how to become a shinobi just like all the other children are now. A nice system, really, if a bit soft. Not only did it create as even a playing field as possible so there was opportunity for both clan-born and civilian children, but its regulations and curriculum almost guaranteed that they wouldn’t be sent out to battle before the age of ten like their parents.

Madara was all for that, don’t get him wrong, but his main worry had always been prejudice among the teachers and fellow classmates. Given the state of things just a few years ago, it would be so surprise if complaints arose that a student was getting treated unfairly due to their lineage. As far as he knew, so far, there had been nothing of the sort that involved an Uchiha, but, then again, Uchiha students were already becoming known for their prodigious talents and ability to advance quickly. He only hoped it would be the same for Sasuke.

Once they finished, Madara had Sasuke wash the dishes and clean up while he went into his study to finish just a bit more paperwork he put off last night. He had expected to be nearly drowning in the paperwork of the clan and the village once he had strengthened his stance of remaining here, but he didn’t get much of anything from the Uchiha anymore. Perhaps they had finally given up on him.

He furiously pushed those thoughts down and away to where he wouldn’t dwell on them anymore, stood abruptly, and called to Sasuke that they were leaving. Despite the school year having already started months ago, enough so so that Sasuke would be entering in halfway, he was confident that being the Uchiha Head and friends with the Hokage would allow him to pull a couple strings and get Sasuke enrolled anyway.

Madara arrived at the front door to see Sasuke already waiting, and wasted no time in grabbing the boy’s shoulder and using shunshin to land them directly in the Hokage’s office. Once Madara was sure Sasuke could handle it, it became the favored method of transportation. It was faster and they attracted much less attention when they weren’t seen.

Hashirama seemed overjoyed to see them again, glady setting the paperwork aside and prancing over to give Madara a hug that he didn’t reciprocate and an affectionate pat on the head to Sasuke despite his grumbling.

“It’s so nice to see you again! How have you been? Settling in well? I know you’re not that much of a child person, so if you need anything-“

“I’m here to enroll Sasuke in the Academy,” Madara cut off his rambling so they could get to the point and be done with it.

Hashirama’s smile brightened impossibly. “Really? How wonderful! Here, let me get some forms.” He returned to his desk and it took a good minute or two of searching through unorganized drawers and cabinets to pull out a registration packet, thicker than Madara would have thought necessary. Perhaps once things finally smoothed out and became usual, this much paperwork would not be needed, but, as it was, there was nothing he could do about it.

“So, how have you been?” Hashirama asked jovially.

“Fine,” Madara said curtly.

“And you, Sasuke?” Hashirama turned to the boy, bending down just slightly to be more friendly. “Madara hasn’t been that bad, right? I know he’s a little rough around the edges at first, but he’ll warm up to you eventually.”

“Hn.” The response was as much an agreement as it could be.

Brat, was Madara’s internal response, his external being a slight furrow in his brows. After all he’s done so far, shelter, feed, and provide an education, the boy still never learned how to give due respect to others, or show gratitude. In fact, from what he has gathered so far, the boy was actually a bit selfish and seemed used to getting what he wants. Brat.

Hashirama laughed, a bellowing sound that resounded in the office. “Still a boy of few words, I see! Don’t worry, it’ll all get better with time. And your starting the Academy soon, so you’ll make lots of friends!” Sasuke crossed his arms grumpily, which was misinterpreted by the Hokage as childish nervousness about starting something new and meeting people. “Aw, it’ll be alright, don’t be nervous!”

“I’m not nervous,” Sasuke said defensively. “I just don’t want to go.”

“What?”

“He doesn’t want to attend the Academy,” Madara clarified when Hashirama turned to him. “He thinks it would be a useless endeavor and a severe waste of time.”

Hashirama waved his hand. “Nonsense! The Academy may be a bit new, but it is a great place to learn and even make some friends!” By the look on his face, Madara doubted Sasuke really cared about such things as ‘friends.’

“If I have to go,” Sasuke began, “is there a way I could graduate early?”

“What do you mean?”

Sasuke turned to the Hokage. “Most students take a few years to graduate, right?” Seeing him nod, the boy continued, “If the standard curriculum proves easy for me to quickly grasp and I am able show my competence as a shinobi early on, would I be able to move to more advanced classes and graduate early?”

Hashirama hummed, hand on his chin in thought. “I suppose that would be possible...the average graduation age is about eleven or twelve, right now. How old are you?”

“Ten, I think.”

Hashirama raised a brow, blinking confusedly. “You think?”

Sasuke looked to the side, arms crossed. A tinge of pink dusted his cheeks as he grumbled, “I’m not sure how old I am. My mother and I never celebrated birthdays much, but I know I was born on July 23.”

Madara flicked his gaze over to Sasuke at that. Despite their time together, he had never thought about asking how old the boy was. It made sense, though, given that he looked almost identical to Izuna when he was about that age. Sometimes, however, the way he talked and acted made him seem much older than he was, so he could be anywhere from ten to twelve, by Madara’s estimates.

Hashirama got that wide-eyed, pitying expression on his face, obviously sad that this child had probably never known the taste of a birthday cake. Madara could see it in his face that he was determined to break that cycle this year in a few months, when July came around. He supposed he would have to ask Hashirama about what do to, as he rarely had birthday parties himself growing up.

The Hokage must have decided that now wasn’t the time to talk about such things (or maybe he was already starting to plan one of those surprising parties) because he continued, “Your mother did train you, though, correct?” Sasuke nodded. “I understand your reasoning, then. I would want to graduate early, too, if I felt that I already knew what I needed. However, I still believe that the Academy would be good for you, no matter how long you are there. How early do you want to graduate?”

Sasuke shrugged. “Less than a year.”

“A tough goal to reach,” Hashirama said, then he smiled encouragingly, “but I’m sure you’re up to the challenge.” Madara knew him well enough that he didn’t fully believe Sasuke could achieve what he had said, but hoped the boy would try his best. Madara himself had faith.

“Hn.”

“Are we done here, then?” Madara inquired, flipping through the papers as he skimmed over them. “I’ll bring these to the Academy by the end of today, and Sasuke should be enrolled by next week.”

Hashirama nodded. “Sounds good, my friend. I’ll see you later!” He waved excitedly when they left, Madara rolling his eyes and reminding him not to slack off too much as he closed the door behind him.

As Madara and Sasuke walked down one of the many staircases in the tower, he noticed something pinched in the boy’s expression. “Is something the matter?”

Sasuke quickly glanced up at him before returning his attention forward. “He reminds me of someone.”

“Does he.” Madara was honestly curious, wanting to know more about the boy’s life than the small snippets he had managed to gather. They painted a blurry, scattered picture, and Madara would like to fill in the blanks. “Who is this person?”

“A boy,” Sasuke said simply. His lips turned down in a look of pure annoyance. “Always happy and talking and making friends with strangers despite being told countless times not to.” His face turned soft, unexpectedly, a look of nostalgia and something else hidden beneath that Madara couldn’t fully place. “An idiot, really. But he was a good friend, even if I wasn’t.”

“Sounds like Hashirama,” he agreed with a small chuckle. Everything Sasuke had said described that bumbling oaf of a Hokage perfectly. “Were you close?”

It took a moment for Sasuke to respond. “Very,” the boy said lowly, voice heavy, and Madara could finally distinguish that underlying sheet of emotion under the surface. It was regret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sooo sorry for the long wait, everbody. I just was never satisfied with what I wrote (tbh I'm still not) but I knew I had to post something sooo I hope this is enough for now. Hope you liked it! Thank you for all the comments, kudos, bookmarks, and subscriptions you have given this story! I never thought it would do so well thanks so much!! (also, I'll do my best to actually reply to the comments this time)
> 
> On another note, I am still in dire need of ideas, ideas ideas!! Anything y'all have, any little thought or whatever, PLEASE let me know!! I would greatly appreciate it because I still have only a vague idea of how I want the next few chapters to go, and nothing really long-term, but I'm working on it, I swear. Thank you all again!

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I came up with a while back. I have so many unfinished one-shot kinda things like this I don't know if I should post them or not lol. 
> 
>  
> 
> I'm not sure if I will continue this or not, but if enough people seem to want it continued, I could try and see where it goes, even though I have no idea where that direction would be. I have no idea what to do with this story if I actually do end up continuing it, so if you have ideas, please comment!!! 
> 
>  
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


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